


Win Some, Lose Some

by islandsmoke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, F/M, Innuendo, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2020-01-15 00:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18487189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandsmoke/pseuds/islandsmoke
Summary: Severus never loses a bet, unless he does.





	Win Some, Lose Some

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kinky Kristmas Exchange at Daily Deviant for purplefluffycat who requested, "Banter, UST, Verbal sparring as a metaphore for foreplay." I have gone with fanon Snape here, more than canon, and one who possesses "The Voice."  
> Beta: Hogwarts Honey

~~~~

Minerva knew who had entered the room, of course. No need for her to look up from the open book in her lap, or turn away from the fire burning cheerfully in the grate of the staffroom fireplace. She had felt the change in air pressure against her cheek when the door had opened, and even before the soft click of the closing latch, a tingle at the back of her neck told her. It was a tingle that rippled down her spine and radiated to the very tips of her fingers and toes. She smiled at her book.

“Severus.”

“Minerva.” The deep, rich voice was as warm as a caress, and it was all she could do not to shiver.

“May I make you a fresh cup of tea?”

She lifted her face to him at last, a smile in her eyes. “Thank you, Severus. That would be lovely.”

He prepared their tea in silence, his: Yunnan, black, hers: Earl Gray with a touch of honey. He didn’t need to ask.

Her tea was presented with the slightest of mocking smiles, and she accepted with a gracious tilt of her head.

He sat in the chair opposite hers on the other side of the fireplace and gracefully crossed his legs. After sipping his tea, he set the bone china cup gently in its saucer, carefully balanced on his knee.

“Will you be attending the Quidditch match tomorrow, Minerva?”

“But of course. If Hufflepuff wins, Gryffindor with Slytherin will be tied in the standings.”

“Do you think that’s even possible?” His eyebrows expressed his scepticism.

“They have an excellent Seeker.”

“But it takes teamwork, all the same, and they haven’t done well in that regard all year.” His voice was almost sad.

“They’re improving,” was her staunch reply.

“But have they improved enough? Ravenclaw has done well so far.”

“True.” Minerva sipped her tea. “Are you by chance suggesting a wager?”

“Perhaps.” Severus ran the tip of a long finger around the rim of his cup, and Minerva couldn’t suppress a deep surge of arousal. She could almost feel that finger on her skin, circling her nipple, stroking up her inner thigh.

“Did you have something in mind?” Severus raised his eyes to hers, innocence shinning forth as though he was totally unaware of any effect his actions may be having on her.

She cocked her head. “An evening? One being amenable to whatever the other wishes?”

He made a slight dismissive gesture with his hand. “But which one would be the winner?”

Minerva could feel a smile stretch her cheeks. It was true, they each enjoyed submitting to the other as much as they each enjoyed dominating.

“What do you propose, then?”

Severus sipped his tea, a thoughtful look on his face. “An evening together, but the loser is not allowed to orgasm.”

Minerva’s cup rattled slightly in its saucer. “How do you plan on _that_ working?”

“There are potions,” his smirk was wide.

She took a deep breath, a myriad of images crowding her mind. “All right, then.”

The tall clock in the corner chimed the three-quarter hour and Severus rose, extending his hand to Minerva when she did likewise. Facing him, she let her hand linger in his, relishing the warm strength of it.

“Tomorrow,” his voice was soft.

“Indeed.” She cleared her throat, then gathered her things and headed to her next class.

~~

 

Even the click of her boot heels sounded angry as Minerva strode along the corridor to Severus’ office that evening. A single brisk knock was all the warning she gave before entering. He rose to greet her.

“You didn’t tell me you were refereeing the match!” Her voice fairly quivered with indignation.

He blinked. “Does it matter?”

The look of total innocence was so unsuited to his features that she wanted to slap it off his face.

“Minerva, have you ever known me to cheat?”

She ground her teeth. “I’ve never _caught_ you, no.”

“Then I must not have cheated.” He spread his hands. “After all, you couldn’t be saying that I have managed to deceive you on occasion.” He cocked his head. “Could you?”

Her nostrils flared in temper. “If I catch you cheating, Severus Snape, I’ll….” Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of anything suitable to the situation.

“Now, Minerva,” he came round the desk and placed an infuriating hand on her shoulder. She tried to ignore the warmth of it, the gentle grip of those long, supple fingers. Tried not to feel the heat of him, standing so close.

“How about..” he thought for a moment. “If you catch me cheating, I’ll double forfeit.”

She had to close her eyes for a moment. She couldn’t let him see how the very possibility of such a thing was affecting her libido. Her eyes opened when he removed his hand and stepped away.

“Are we in accord?”

She took a deep breath. “That will be satisfactory.”

His dark eyes glowed with sudden heat, then he turned and walked to the office door, holding it open for her. As she walked past, he leaned close to her ear, his breath tickling her neck. “You won’t catch me, you know.”

~~

 

The afternoon was blustery with intermittent rain squalls. Ravenclaw’s brilliant teamwork pulled them ahead steadily, but their Seeker appeared to be suffering from complete ineptitude. Twice he almost had the Snitch, and twice he fumbled. Severus seemed to be everywhere at once, missing nothing, and assigning harsh penalties for every infraction. Harsh, but fair, damn him; even Professor Flitwick didn’t call a protest, though he grumbled a lot.

Hufflepuff won.

Minerva stood in the sudden rain, stunned to inaction. Yes, she’d thought Hufflepuff had a reasonable chance, especially with her keeping an eye on Severus, but as much as the man hated losing….

~~

 

Professors Flitwick and Sprout had just left her in the Entrance Hall when she heard the front door close with a thud. Most of the students were in their dormitories changing for dinner, and she turned back in curiosity.

Severus strode toward her, head up, a cocky assurance in his walk; he didn’t look like a man who had just lost a bet. Indeed, his hair was mussed from the wind, his eyes sparkled with the exhilaration of flying, and his cheeks were still flushed from the bite of the wind. She hadn’t seen him looking this alive since the last time they….

Minerva squelched the thought mercilessly.

He stopped in front of her, and she could smell fresh air and rain, though he appeared to be dry. His black and white referee robes swirled around him as if they still contained a memory of the wind, and, as he propped his fists on his hips, she couldn’t help but notice that he still wore the leather arm and shin guards and heavy gloves of his uniform.

“So, Professor McGonagall, any complaints?” He did not _sound_ like a man who had just lost a wager, either.

“No, Professor Snape, you appeared to referee the match with the most scrupulous integrity.” She couldn’t keep her irritation out of her voice, though most of it was aimed at herself for the way her body was responding to his presence.

His eyebrows rose. “And this surprises you?” His look became smug. “Perhaps you wished to lose our wager? Maybe you wouldn’t have noticed a slight favouritism, had there been favouritism to notice, of course.”

She felt her face heat with anger. “I never wish to lose!”

“And I never _do_.” His voice was soft, and he laughed briefly under his breath as he turned and walked away, leaving her sputtering in the empty hall.

~~

 

He sat next to her in the Dining Hall. He had changed into his more formal robes for the meal, and his hair was tidied, but a slight glow still showed on his cheeks, and his eyes seemed more alive then usual.

Madam Pince, at the end of the table on his other side, was flirting outrageously.

“Really, Severus, you should referee more often, it really seems to suit you. And one shouldn’t be allowed to forget how good you are with a broomstick between your legs!”

Severus laughed, and Minerva dropped her knife on her plate with a clatter. She washed her outrage down with a gulp of wine; really, the woman was shameless!

“There are those who feel that as a Head of House I should never be allowed to referee. There are those who feel I might… _cheat_.“ His hand lay on the table between them and Minerva fought down the desire to stab him with her fork.

“Certainly not!” Irma gushed. “Clearly you have too much integrity.” She lowered her eyelashes.

“Is that what you think, Minerva?”

She nearly choked at hearing her name, and looked up to see that Severus had turned to her, his expression innocent but his eyes dancing with rare humour.

“I would hope that any senior staff at Hogwarts would have the integrity to referee a Quidditch Match, if not the ability.” She was momentarily ashamed of being goaded into such a nasty remark; Irma couldn’t fly to save herself.

She folded her napkin and excused herself.

Severus rose as well and pulled out her chair for her. She was about to turn away when he spoke.

“I’ll be around later for our little game then.”

She felt her face flush, but said nothing. Hearing Irma’s, “Why Severus, I didn’t know you played?” sent her hurrying on her way.

~~

 

The soft knock on the door of her rooms came at a quarter past nine. She opened for him promptly, and bid him enter with a gesture, then, after closing the door gently, went to the table in the corner and poured drinks: neat whiskey for her, cognac for him.

“There might be a problem.” She handed him his drink and gestured toward a chair by the fire. It both flattered and irked her that he always remained standing until she was seated.

He sat back and crossed his legs, swirling the amber liquid in the snifter and breathing deeply of the aroma. “And that would be?”

“I have a rather ill second year. Poppy has supplied a dose of medicine, but if there isn’t improvement by ten, we’ll need to move her to the hospital wing and notify her parents. My Prefect is sitting with her now, and will report at the proper time. Or before, if she takes a turn for the worse.”

“Nothing life-threatening, I hope?” Severus took a sip of his drink, and she saw him hold it for a moment, then tip his head back and swallow. Her eyes were fastened on his neck, and she almost missed seeing him lick his lips.

For a moment, Minerva forgot what they were talking about.

“No,” the word came out a shade too loudly. “No, but it could be serious. She seems to have caught some kind of chill at the match today.” Minerva sighed and sipped her whiskey. “The young these days seem so _fragile._ It really was a beautiful day. Weather like this, I used to hunt for _hours_.“ She felt the glow of remembered exhilaration. “I miss hunting. My Muggle uncle taught me to ride, you know, took me hunting every season for years. Gods, it was a treat, galloping over the fields, taking fence after fence, riding a good blooded horse.” She looked at Severus. “I haven’t had a good, long ride in quite a while.”

“No?” His free hand was tracing lazy patterns on the arm of his chair, the long, elegant fingers dancing lightly over the design in the brocade. “Have you not found a mount to your taste?”

“It’s a question of staying power, you see.” She took another sip. “While my customary mount is excellent indeed, he’s not usually up for a really, _long_ ride.”

“And, if I may guess by the fact that you appear to be wearing riding boots, you think something may have happened to change that?”

“I do hope so.” She coyly raised the hem of her robe to disclose the handle of a stout stick protruding from the top of her boot. “With a little encouragement, I’m hoping he’ll last most of the night.”

Severus hid a smile behind his glass. “Are you now?”

This silky softness of his quiet question sent a shiver down Minerva’s spine. There was both promise, and danger, in that question.

“Severus…,” she wasn’t sure how to form her question.

He set his glass aside and looked at her expectantly. Not necessarily an encouraging sign.

“We’ve known each other quite a while, Minerva. Surely you can ask me whatever you wish.”

She took a deep breath. “You said today that you never lose, and yet, you did.”

“Did I?” The question was almost a purr, and the intensity of his gaze suddenly sharpened.

Her body nearly shook with the force the attention he focused on her, but she reined in her desires with a firm hand, and came to the point.

“What are you up to?”

He laughed and sat back, steepling his fingers. “Since you ask so bluntly, I’ll reply in kind. You are an energetic and enthusiastic lover, and I’ve sometimes wondered just how much you could actually take of that vigorous pounding you seem to enjoy so much.” He suddenly sat forward and dropped his voice. “I’ve wondered just how many orgasms you could sustain before you cried off. Tonight, I plan to find out.”

Minerva blinked, then realized she wasn’t breathing and inhaled deeply. Before her blathering mind could come up with something to say to _that_ , there was a knock on her door. She moved as quickly as her trembling legs could take her, and Severus also rose, picking up their glasses and returning them to the table in the corner, which was, not coincidentally, out of sight of of anyone at the door.

It was, as she suspected, her Head Girl. After conferring briefly, she closed the door and turned to her guest.

“Severus, I’m afraid I’ll have to go. Malinda is no better and I’ll need to Floo her parents and get her settled into the hospital ward.”

Severus came close, taking her hand. “No problem, Minerva.” He held her gaze as he raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles, then stroked his thumb over the spot. “I always pay my debts.”

He was gone before she could reply and she stamped one booted foot in frustration before heading for the Headmaster’s quarters.

~ 0.0 ~


End file.
